


hold me (like you used to)

by kantele



Series: Grindeldore requests [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, How Do I Tag, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23449441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kantele/pseuds/kantele
Summary: Prompt: Hello! Not sure if you are taking prompts but if so... Jealous Albus. I read quite great fics, including some of you (You Are Driving Me Crazy was great) with Gellert as the jealous one. I think it'd be interesting to see the usually controlled Albus show this side of him. Teen or adult, fluffy or angst, it's up to you.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Series: Grindeldore requests [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1334713
Comments: 9
Kudos: 97





	hold me (like you used to)

**Author's Note:**

> references to credence/gellert but it's only in albus' head
> 
> sorry to the person who requested this like ages ago for taking so long, hope you like it
> 
> also, stay inside and wash your hands

This was a bad idea. Albus knew that but, somehow, he was still standing there, staring down the slope at Nurmengard castle. The wind was tugging at his robes, carrying the autumn chill deep into his bones as he stared at the fortress surrounded by a barren landscape. The castle was lovely, but it stood alone, the desolateness of the surrounding mountains sharpening the feeling of acute loneliness Albus felt standing there. It did not feel like a place where Gellert should live.

Coming here had been just a moment’s impulse, inspired by the pictures he had seen months ago that still haunted him. Images of a young man in an alleyway in New York, his face enveloped by Gellert’s hands, his disguised face much too close to the boy’s own. The boy was with Gellert now. He imagined where else those hands had been by now.

He should leave. He should leave now. There was nothing to be gained here. He and Gellert had been over for a long time, even if his heart had difficulty letting go. He was a fool. A damn fool who should know better. He should leave now. He took a step back, intending to disapparate when he heard a rustle coming from behind him.

“Leaving so soon?” a voice asked. Albus closed his eyes. It was a voice he could recognise anywhere. It had haunted him for years, following behind his steps like a shadow, intruding frequently into his nights, in both dreams and nightmares. Still, he had almost forgotten the cadence of it, the deep smoothness that made him think of the nights spend inside the barn, their hair tousled and sweat drying on their skin. He did not dare to open his eyes. It would be too real. _He_ would be too real.

Warmth washed over his back as Gellert stepped closer to him. It made Albus shiver and, instinctively, press closer to his warmth.

A deep chuckle reverberated between them, and it felt as if it was amplified by the mountains surrounding them.

Gellert’s moustache tickled against Albus’s cheek.

“You are freezing,” he murmured.

A second later, it felt as if a warm blanket settled over Albus, blocking out the chilly mountain air.

Finding his voice, Albus thanked him quietly, well aware that those were the first words he had said to Gellert in years. (The last words had been shouted through tears as he was cradling his sister’s dead body, his heart breaking in too many ways he never managed to count. He could not recall what he had said. The shock had erased it from his memory. Had it been words of hate, or had he been begging him to stay? He couldn’t remember. And he did not wish to.)

Hands came to rest on his shoulders, and steadily, reluctantly, Albus was turned to face the source of both his greatest regret and his greatest joy. Thumbs swept gently across his eyelids, pressing them lightly, urging at him to open his eyes.

Slowly, Albus did, not certain if the sight of Gellert’s face alone would be enough to make him weep. He blinked, and there Gellert was, flesh and bone, not a reflection he could not touch or speak to. His white hair fell in small curls across his high cheekbones, framing his mismatched eyes that shone from his pale skin like two gemstones. There was a smile on his face, just a slight lift of his lips. Cautious, but resembling the one Albus had been graced with in happier times.

Albus smiled in return. He wondered if it looked as broken as he felt, standing there in front of a man who had caused the world great pain, knowing it, and desiring him still.

Gellert’s hands slid down his cheeks, down his arms, coming to grasp Albus’ hands in between his, his fingers sliding almost proprietarily across the scar on Albus’ palm, making the skin tingle in their wake. Gellert’s eyes flickered from their hands to his face.

“May I ask you what brings you here?”

Albus looked down as well, uncertain of what to say; how to explain his behaviour when it did not make sense even to himself. Jealousy. That was the only answer Albus could come up with, and it was not one he was willing to share. He felt foolish even thinking it. Gellert was not his. Had not been for years. And Albus knew very well he used his charm carelessly to get what he wanted. It had gotten him Albus, after all. Feeling more foolish than ever, Albus withdrew his hands from Gellert’s grasp. His hands felt empty, and he quickly slid them into the pockets of his robes.

“I should not have come,” he said quietly, turning to leave.

Before he could, a hand reached out to grasp him. It felt like a vice. Gellert turned him around roughly, and he gave a small wince. The hand loosened its hold.

Gellert’s eyes were blazing, but his voice was quiet as he asked, “Please, _mein Lieber_. Why are you here?”

Albus closed his eyes at the endearment, feeling conflicted. He hated the power those words held over him, and simultaneously he craved it. Craved that feeling he had felt back in that summer, the heady passion of first, pubescent love blooming, the ache that he felt in his chest every time he looked at Gellert.

Sighing, he said, “I do not know.” Gellert remained silent for once, letting him gather his thoughts. “It was a momentary impulse. I just needed to see- ”

“Yes?” Gellert breathed in the air between them, his voice barely stronger than the wind.

“I- I needed to see you,” Albus admitted, his voice equally quiet, the shame of admission weighing on him like an anchor in his chest. From the corner of his eye, he could see Gellert’s lips lifting into a smile. The hands trailed down Albus’ arms again in a slow caress.

“I see,” Gellert said, and although his voice sounded nonchalant, Albus could hear how pleased he was. “Anything particular that prompted this impulse?”

For a moment, Albus thought of asking him, _What is that boy to you?_ but he swallowed the question down like pieces of broken glass. Gellert had received enough victory today, without Albus giving him more with his childish jealousy. And he wasn’t certain if he could bear the answer, for each answer Gellert could give was equally horrible, if for different reasons. 

Instead, Albus leaned forward to kiss him. Albus knew that Gellert could see it for the ploy it was, but he was counting on him playing along with their game. Gellert had already received his victory today. Albus was allowed leeway.

Gellert’s lips were chapped slightly, and the tickle of his moustache against Albus was a new sensation. The way their lips fit together had changed; Gellert was taller now, equal in height to Albus, so no longer did Albus have to bend down to meet them. The touches were slow and deliberate, careful and controlled when in their youth their passion had been unrestrained, sometimes bordering on clumsy. Albus carefully tried not to think of how many lips Gellert had touched since then. His only experience had been a sad drunken snog behind a cottage in Hogsmeade that he had regretted as soon as it had happened and had tried not to think of since. Gellert’s hand slid into his hair and Albus tried not to think of who else those hands had touched; how many others Gellert had charmed into his bed. Gellert bit his lip gently, and Albus opened his mouth, allowing him to slide in his tongue. Gellert hummed, and the vibrations travelled through Albus’ body, making him gasp. That, at least, was familiar. He had missed it. The way Gellert’s hums reverberated from his chest to Albus, from his mouth to his, the way it made him feel-

With a gasp, Albus wrestled his lips from Gellert’s. At some point, he had ended up pressed against the large stone wall to their left, and Gellert’s hands had wandered to his hair, holding him tightly in place as the other had snuck beneath his robes to grasp at his hip. His own hands were buried beneath Gellert’s cloak, wrapping tightly around his waist.

Closing his eyes, Albus lowered his forehead into Gellert’s, listening to their heavy breathing. His heart was pounding rapidly in his chest, his legs shaking with tremors as arousal build between his legs. It felt tempting to just let it continue; to allow himself to be taken against the rocks, letting the stone carve marks of ownership on his flesh in bruises that would result. Or perhaps he could push Gellert onto the ground, straddle him and mark his skin so anyone who saw him bare would know what he had been doing, would know that Gellert did not belong solely to them. 

But shame, his constant companion, was slowly creeping back in. Those hands that were touching him so gently, they had ruined families, they had killed more people than Albus dared to count, people he knew and people he had not, and they would continue to do so. (She had been wearing their mother’s blue dress that day; at fourteen already tall enough to fill it. In her hair had been braided pale blue flowers, the colour of the sky in summer. Leta, who carried the same shame as him, and whose last words had been of love. Aurors, whose families Albus knew, whose children he had taught.) Sliding his hands to Gellert’s, he pulled them away and placed them between them. He held them for a moment, examining the new wrinkles that had replaced the smoothness of youth.

“I have to go,” he said quietly. Gellert looked at him from a moment, the look in his eyes impenetrable, his hand coming to brush Albus’ hair back into place before he stepped back.

Breathing easier, Albus stepped past him, adjusting his robes.

“I look forward to seeing you again,” Gellert murmured.

Albus paused. “It will be the last time.”

“Perhaps.”

Two steps further.

“I missed you as well.”

Albus’ steps faltered. Admission and bait at one. A gift given for the victory Albus had granted him.

Closing his eyes, resisting the urge to look back, Albus spun on the spot and left Gellert behind, standing on the rocky hills above his solitary fortress.

**Author's Note:**

> idk if i personally like this, but eh ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Leave a comment if you like, they keep me motivated
> 
> My Tumblr username if you wanna come chat or request a fic: bloodtroth


End file.
